When The Lights Turn On
by OnlyBones
Summary: Hermione's somewhat perfect marriage takes a sudden and dangerous turn as Viktor becomes violent and addicted to drugs. But Hermione thinks she can get in touch with an old friend, even after two years. More inside. HGHP. AU, with the addition of TDH.
1. Changes

So. I'm back.

**Title: **_When the Lights Turn On_

**Pairing:** HGHP

**Summary:** When Hermione & Viktor's marrige takes a sudden and dangerous turn, she thinks she knows what to do, even though Viktor has pulled her away from her best friends for nearly two and a half years. And when she does so, she gets tangled in something she never would have expected.

* * *

**When The Lights Turn On**

_Chapter One_

Hermione Granger had last seen her best friends two years earlier at their graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Viktor had proposed to her the March before, with a large stone that Hermione was even surprised by. She said yes, and they were meant to be.

Viktor was handsome and loyal and Hermione adored him. But Viktor persisted on living far away from Ron and Harry just because it was closer to where he practiced with the team and she could just Apparate to visit them. But Hermione was stuck as a stay-at-home-wife, where she cooked and cleaned every day. She woke up, sometimes with Viktor still snoring and sometimes he was gone; she showered, dress and did her hair. Then she would fix breakfast for Viktor if he was home or she would fix it for just herself. Then she'd fix up her room, the living room or whatever else needed it most.

Yet, each day she'd promised she'd send a letter to Harry and Ron but each day it slipped Hermione's mind until the next morning where she'd make the same promise over and over again.

"Hermione," Viktor called as he slammed the door to their apartment. "I'm home."

She came out of the kitchen, having almost finished their dinner. Hermione smiled, "How was your day?"

He muttered something and slugged off to their bedroom. She bit her lip but went back to fixing their dinner, just hoping.

"Viktor," she said as went into their bedroom. He was shoving something into his dresser but he followed after her.

"Vhat is it?" he asked glumly as they sat down.

Hermione put her napkin on her lap as she answered, "It's a grilled chicken. I got the recipe from an old TV show my mum used to watch –"

"God, Hermione, not anoffer one uff those stupid Muggle shows," Viktor spat. "You're a _vitch_, you don't need to fix a meal by hand. You have a _vand_. That's vhat it's there for."

She looked down and picked up her fork. "I'll do that next time."

He grumbled something under his breath and then shoveled down his whole meal.

"I vill be resting."

Hermione put her fork down as he slammed the bedroom door. Viktor had become grumpy and moody these days and she wasn't quite sure why. He had also become much rougher, she noted to herself.

But she pushed this all aside and put her and Viktor's dishes away, making a point to clean them with magic. Hermione sighed as she saw it was only eight. But she returned to her bedroom, where Viktor was indeed laying on his back, his eyes shut.

"Vhat?" he mumbled. "Vhat do you vant?"

"I-I just came in-" she stopped her sentence and then headed for the bathroom.

But he was up and tightly gripped her elbow. "Vhat do you vant?"

Hermione was lost for words as his face turned sour and angry. He pushed her against the wall. Her breathing became frantic as then threw her on the bed. She tried fighting back but all he was so much stronger and so much bigger, there was little she could do. Viktor used little effort to tear off all her clothes though she squirmed, shouted, scraped and cried. Her cries were useless, as no one could hear her.

Viktor thrust himself into her and Hermione shrieked in pain. Even though she screamed and yelled till her throat was sore Viktor continued to hurt her. But then it all stopped, colors swirling around her sight and feeling incredibly sore.

He pulled his pants up again and then slammed the door behind him. She lay still until she heard the front door slam. Hermione sat up, shivering, and holding her small body with her hands. Tears fell from her eyes as she stared downward. Loving, loyal, handsome Viktor was gone.

As he was not there anymore, Hermione headed towards the dresser that he had hidden something in. But she was hardly surprised when she found the packet and the needle. She trembled violently again, crumpling to the ground as she realized what was happening. Hermione was so sore, so tired ... She did the only thing she thought could help.

She stood up and pulled on a bathrobe. Hermione sat down at the old desk in the bedroom. She picked up a quill and pulled out the parchment. Hermione stared down the paper. What could she say? My husband just violated me and is now a drug user? Write back, love Hermione? No, she thought.

She began with an apology, some lies about herself and Viktor, hoping they would not be angry with her. Hermione stood up, still shaking badly and tied the letter to the leg of her owl. It gave a small hoot and she smiled sadly as she shivered again, quite violently.

"Take it to Ron and Harry."

Hermione could have sworn the owl smiled but she was never sure, even as she watched it go farther and farther into the dark purple sky.


	2. Letters

Chapter two, please read & review.

Thanks to those who did for chapter one.

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_Chapter Two_

Hermione didn't know what to expect. At first it occurred, they might not reply, whether it be accident or purposely. Then she thought what if they just never found it? Two twenty-year-old men she had known earlier had copied off of her basic notes from school. How could they keep their "household" running?

After two days of hardly speaking with Viktor, she was surprised to receive a letter.

_Hermione –_

_Where the hell have you been? We've been pretty worried, but we know you're incredibly too smart for your own good –_

She smiled to herself at this.

– _so we can't be too worried. Me and Harry have been sharing an apartment in London, as you know. He's been working as an Auror, though he's had close to nothing to do. Nearly a year ago I was asked to train with a very good Quidditch team and I still am. Other than that, I work with Fred and George at their shop. Since it's overly successful, it pays well, so don't think we're broke._

_We miss you a lot, Hermione. How's that marriage as well? I've only read about Viktor in the paper with the games and everything. We really want to see you, Hermione. Stop by sometime. Someone's always here._

_Love,_

_Ron and Harry_

Hermione read the letter over again. For nearly two and half years she had not spoken to her best friends. But then they were suddenly apart of her life again.

The front door slammed and Hermione quickly shoved the letter into the desk. Viktor's footsteps came closer to the bedroom but when he entered he only grumbled something about dinner to his wife. She looked at him cautiously as he then trudged into the bathroom, slamming the door violently behind him.

Hermione bit her lip as she could hear him muttering to himself inside. She did not know what to expect anymore of Viktor. She quickly changed and slid underneath the sheets of the bed. Tomorrow, she would write back, but tonight she would rest.

She closed her eyes, hoping everything could go back to normal. But she heard something crash from inside the bathroom and Hermione was suddenly wide awake again.

"Viktor?" she whispered as she opened the door to the bathroom. Hermione only saw him hide the same things he did before by shoving it in the cabinet. The soap dish had broken and Viktor stood over it, grumbling to himself. "Are you alright?"

He did not answer; he only picked up the solid piece and threw them in the waste basket. When he turned to face her Hermione was instantly frightened. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was fixed in an expression that reminded her of only a few nights earlier. She was frozen on the spot as he approached her again. She tried speaking but he covered her mouth with his hand.

She winced in pain as he pushed her into the side of the door frame. Hermione tried everything she had before, but it did not work. Viktor was so much stronger and bigger under no circumstances would she have been able to stop him.

But she still felt useless.

* * *

Hermione inspected herself in the mirror. A large purple bruise had taken up most of her stomach and back. As she touched it gingerly, she winced. How could she have let him take such advantage of her? She sighed as she looked at her forearm. A light bruise in the shaped of his hand was underneath her elbow. Hermione could hardly believe how quickly her marriage was crumbling.

But then she pulled on her sweatshirt and went back to the kitchen. Viktor was not there when she woke up in their bed, naked and cold. Hermione sat down at their kitchen counter as she began to write her reply.

_Dear Ron and Harry,_

_I am so happy for the two of you. I've been busy taking care of Viktor and myself, it's harder than it seems! I'd love to visit you, as soon as possible. I haven't seen any of you since graduation. I'd appreciate seeing all the Weasley's again, as well. We have to get together as soon as possible._

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

She tied it to the leg of her owl and opened the window to send it off.

"Go on," she said to it. "You know who it's for."

The owl hooted as a reply and then flew off again. Hermione sighed as she watched it go. She could only guess when they would answer. Hermione did the only thing she could, she waited.


	3. Arrival

Sorry for the wait; I had loads of homework. Thanks to those that reviewed last chapter.

Read & review!

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Chapter Three

He slammed her against the wall, thrusting himself into her. She shut her eyes, not letting her tears fall. Viktor continued until he was breathless and fell back onto the bed with her. Hermione curled into a ball as she listened to her husband breathing patterns grow rapid and then slow back down.

Viktor had increased the amount he used to nearly a double. He had also a tendency to come home slightly drunk. Hermione was frightened to say anything while he was sober and thus, it continued. She had earned a new black eye but it was hardly a problem as she hardly went out anymore. Hermione couldn't think a way she could stop this.

She shut her eyes, recurring what had happened during the day.

* * *

Ron and Harry's letter came the next day, with a much longer reply. Ron's mother wanted to have Hermione over as soon as possible. Harry was preparing for a final test for being an Auror. Hermione could only grin as she continued reading. Ginny had gotten back together with Dean and Ron had added a few nasty curses for him.

When she finished reading it Hermione realized she hardly had a reply. An _honest_ reply. She could always lie, but how could she ever explain anything again to her two best friends? Though she was filled with remorse, she picked up her quill and let the lies start from there.

* * *

Hermione woke up as any other morning. Viktor was gone. But this morning, she was incredibly sore. Her black eyes and bruises all around her body seemed to throb to an extent that seemed unbearable. She looked at the letter she had written the day before. Hermione couldn't stand for the lies she had told them. But she knew she couldn't tell them what was going on between herself and Viktor.

Quickly, she grabbed the last letter. A grin cracked on her face as she read the return address. Within an hour, her bags were packed and she had left a note to Viktor.

Hermione wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing. She thought to herself what if Viktor came looking for her as she applied thick makeup to her eye. Hermione pulled on a light sweatshirt as she picked up her bags again. She clutched to the letter from Ron and Harry as she shut her eyes tight and Apparate to their apartment building.

She opened her eyes to a busy street, full of noise and commotion. A few people rushed into her but Hermione headed for the building in front of her. Her heart was at a rapid pace by the time she was in front of their door. She couldn't move as she stood there, thinking to herself with all the disappointing thoughts. What if Viktor came after her? What if no one was home?

Before she could even raise her hand or walk away, the door opened quickly.

" – said that he would –" Ron stopped talking immediately. "Hermione!"

Her already had her in a tight embrace as she stood there, hardly able to connect to the reality taking place.

"Hello Ron," she grinned as she hugged him back.

"Where the bloody hell have you been!" he laughed as he invited her in.

Hermione blushed and shrugged it off. "How're you all doing?"

Ron waved his hand. "Don't mind us. We're fine. What about you?"

"Good," she smiled as he took her bags.

"Obviously you wanted to stay," Ron laughed as he put them by the couch. But then he noted when he saw her open her mouth, "We want you to. Don't think about leaving tomorrow or something!"

Hermione let a smile slip out of the side of her mouth. "Where's Harry?"  
Ron nodded his head to the kitchen. "I'm off to practice. Harry's got off today."

His shaggy, black head appeared from around a corner. "Hermione?"

"Hello Harry," she smiled.

Before she knew it, Harry was hugging her tightly as well. "We've missed you so much!"

Hermione smiled shyly. "I've missed you all as well."

"Mum was worried sick about you," Ron mentioned. "She'll want you over for dinner as soon as possible. Probably tonight."

She nodded. "Fine with me."

"I'll have to get in touch with her. I think Fred and George have some Floo Powder."

Harry turned to Hermione. "Well, c'mon. Ron made pancakes."

"Even after all those years at the Dursleys' he _still _can't cook."

Harry rolled his eyes. "They didn't have me cook things, I've told you a thousand times."

Ron sighed as he went back to the door with his duffle bag. "I'll be back around three. Bye 'Mione. Bye Harry."  
"See you later," Harry shouted as he left. The door slammed and then Harry turned back to Hermione. "Now, really, would you like some pancakes? Don't listen to Ron. Even if I could cook, I wouldn't be able to make these amazing pancakes."

Hermione laughed as she followed her best friend. For once, the thought of Viktor was out of her head. But it wouldn't be gone for long.


	4. Questions

I love my reviewers! You guys make me smile.

Sorry about the little wait for this update; I got a little stuck, so it might not be as good.

Please read & review!

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_Chapter Four_

"You know, I expected Viktor to come with you."

Hermione averted her eyes away from Harry as he put their dishes away. "He's busy. With his matches and all."

He nodded as he took out a glass and orange juice. "Well, that's all right. Maybe next time."

She smiled. "Maybe."

_If she doesn't go missing for another two years_, Harry thought to himself as he poured his drink. "So what are you doing these days, career wise?"

Hermione shifted slightly. "Viktor doesn't find it necessary for me to work. He brings in enough for us to live well."

Harry simply stared at her. Hermione had been the smartest girl in their whole year, and school. How could she let _Viktor_ get in the way of her life? He was just a Quidditch player, nothing more, so how did he have a say it that?

"And – and you _listen_ to him? You haven't got a job or – or anything?"

"Well, no," Hermione said lightly.

Harry tried to find something external on her that had changed. What was she _thinking_?

"Hermione," he said slowly, "you mean to say, you haven't even pushed on with your studies while you were with Viktor?"

She did not have a reply. Hermione looked away and then spoke, "If you have a problem with Viktor's decision, then so be it, Harry. He's my husband and I listen to him."

"That doesn't mean he's right," Harry snapped. Hermione looked at him, startled. "You're possibly the smartest person I've ever met, how can you let him step over you like that, Hermione? You could be anything you want in the world and all you are is a _house wife_?"

Hermione could not find words to answer him. He was right, she knew that. But Viktor was stubborn and she had little say in what went on.

"Hermione," he said softly as her eyes began to shine. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it –"

"No," she cut in, wiping her eyes. "You're right. But I just wanted to make Viktor happy. He liked me being home and safe."

"You'd be safe at any job, Hermione," Harry pointed out. "You're a genius at spell work."

Hermione wouldn't make eye contact with him. "I guess Viktor's scared. I just want him to be happy."

"Does that mean sacrificing your own happiness?"

She once more couldn't find anything to answer Harry with.

"Hermione," he began. "Is something wrong with you and Viktor?"

All she wanted to do was to scream out yes, yes there was and that she was scared to death of him. It was possibly the only reason why she had come back. Harry was silent as well as she thought to herself all the things he had just told her. For the whole time she had been with Viktor it was that she did not have much a say, what Viktor wanted was what he got.

She shook her head. "Just a few small disagreements is all."

Harry looked at her, wondering if she was telling the truth. He prayed to God she was, but he knew, quite clearly, she was lying.

* * *

Once Ron had come home, beaten and exhausted, he reported his mother was demanded they all come over for dinner so that they could all see Hermione as well. 

"If you're too tired," he said, "then so be it. We'll go tomorrow or something."

"I'm fine," Hermione answered. "I'd be happy to go."

Ron nodded and went back to shower and change. Harry looked back at Hermione. They had been watching old Muggle shows for the past hour and so far not many words had been exchanged between the two.

"You do know," he said quietly so that Ron couldn't hear, "that they'll ask pretty much all the same questions as I did."

Hermione looked over and smiled. "Well, I'm prepared then, right?"

Harry smiled back and then leaned back. Within thirty minutes, Ron was dressed and dry as he pulled on another shoe.

"Are you guys ready?" he said as he finished tying his laces. "I'll Apparate first and they you guys follow, so that you know, they don't swarm and suffocate you, Hermione."

She smiled at him. "Go ahead. We're right behind you."

He was quickly gone and Harry then winked, "See you there."

Harry was gone and Hermione took a deep breath in. Before she knew it, Hermione was in the Burrow, back where she felt true belonging.


	5. Stories

Thanks to people who reviewed, you're amazing. Sorry about the wait.

Please read & review!

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_Chapter Five_

None of them realized how long the two years had seemed until Hermione had appeared in the center of the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was the first to bombard her with questions and, as Ron predicted, nearly suffocated her with an embrace.

Ginny was next, but she was quickly pushed aside by the twins who made an impression of their mother which everyone could only laugh at. Bill was the only other Weasley that could make it that night and was joining them later as Hermione discovered after Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arm around her shoulder and pulled her out onto the back porch where a few tables were all set up.

Ron's younger sister sat down next her as Mrs. Weasley forced her into a seat.

"So how've you been, Hermione?" Ginny smiled as Mrs. Weasley began taking the plates of food out.

She nodded. "Good."

Ginny laughed. "Just 'good'? What about Viktor?"

"He's doing well," Hermione forced a smile. "He had too much to do to join me."

Harry and Ron sat down across of them, with Fred and George following behind them, discussing business. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came next, talking quickly and quietly as they came outside.

"Help yourselves," Mrs. Weasley grinned. "Bill should be arriving soon enough."

Ron and Harry eagerly dug in, racing for everything as well the twins. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes but then ran off into the house when she heard Bill calling from inside.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Same old, same old, doesn't matter if they're old men they'll always grab the food in front of them. Even if it was poisoned."

Hermione smiled and laughed as the boys continued grabbing food. Ron's mother appeared in the door way with Bill and Fleur. Hermione remembered that they had been married the summer before their seventh year. Yet she could hardly believe that she had actually forgotten.

Bill had his arm wrapped around Fleur's waist and they looked particularly happy for a married couple, Hermione thought to herself. She noted that she didn't have much to say in the topic of marriage concerning hers was a complete failure and she had yet to tell anyone.

"Hermione," Bill smiled. "Haven't seen you since our wedding!"

Fleur gave a smile with her perfect white teeth and threw her long hair back over her shoulder. "'ello Herm-ony."

It bit her mind as she thought of how Viktor first recited her name in a similar way to Fleur. She didn't flinched but only smiled. "Hello."

"Hermione's married to Viktor," Mrs. Weasley noted. "Viktor Krum –"

"Zat other boy? Ze one from ze competition?" she looked up at Bill and nodded.

"The Quidditch player."

"Vhen?" she shouted jumping up and down, quickly and gracefully sliding into the seat next to Hermione.

"About a month after I graduated from Hogwarts," Hermione said, a little softly.

Fleur grinned. "And ve vere not invited?"

Hermione forced a small smile. "It was small ceremony. It was only my parents and Viktor's. We didn't want anything big."

Fleur made a face. "How is _zat_ a vedding? Herm-ony, don't tell me you had to settle vith zat."

She shrugged.

"You poor thing," she said quietly. "You'll get zee vedding you deserve someday. I know it."

Hermione smiled and laughed as Fleur and Ginny began talking again. She no longer felt belonging, suddenly. She felt backtracked. For once, the girl that knew everything didn't know a thing.

* * *

They came home late, around one or so in the morning. Ron was drunk forcing Harry and Hermione carried him into the apartment, still laughing as he slurred and rambled.

"Normally," Harry said as they put him on his bed. "Ron is much much worse."

Hermione smiled. "I can hardly remember."

Harry looked over at her. She seemed worn out, tired and Hermione looked back up at him.

"I think Ill go to bed now. I'm simply exhausted," she stretched and yawned.

Harry nodded. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight Harry," Hermione went out the door. Then her head popped back in. "Will I see you in the morning?"

He shook his head. "I've got work. Ron'll be home."

"I've got a good hangover potion."

Harry smiled and laughed. "You'll need a strong dose for him."

She laughed. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight Hermione."

He headed out the door too stepping into the darkness of his own room. Harry felt his way around and pulled his glasses of his head and placed them on the night stand. He lay on his back, staring up to the ceiling. Harry tried closing his eyes and falling asleep, but his thoughts drifted back to Hermione.

He recalled at the Weasley's how he saw her. Her body language stated evenly that she was comfortable, collected, clam and maybe even a little happy. But then her eyes landed on Harry's. They screamed fear and hollowness. They screeched anxiety and pain. They screamed and yelled so loud Harry wanted to cover his ears. Her eyes screeched and shrieked so that Harry wanted to look away. But he couldn't. Her eyes held a story with words that wouldn't reach Hermione's mouth. They told Harry everything she couldn't.

They told a story.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to **choco-dor** I realized I made a pretty big mistake. It's actually Bill & Fleur, not Charlie. Sorry about the mistake & thanks for pointing that out. 


	6. Hangovers

Thanks to everyone that reviewed.

Read & review!

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Chapter Six

Hermione woke the next morning to the sound of a door slamming. Ron shouted something from his room with a slur of curses and other words and she laughed as she got up. As she stepped into the hallway she saw Ron, who was looking quite disheveled for a hangover.

"Even if I'm hardly drunk," he grumbled. "I get killer hangovers."

Hermione smiled. "I have just the thing."

"Harry mentioned something like a potion," Ron said as he yawned. "It better not have any rats' tails in them."

"Well, it's not exactly a potion," she smiled at him, heading to the cabinet. "It's more of a thing I've learned over time."

Ron eyed her. "Goody-two shoes Hermione knows a cure for hangovers without potions?"

Hermione smiled, taking out the aspirin and milk. "Do you have chocolate syrup?"

* * *

The rest of the day, surprisingly, was enjoyable for the two of them. Ron told her about the team he was training with and how they were proposing he join within the next year.

"That's fantastic," she smiled and hugged him. "You still play Keeper?"

"They tried me out for a Beater," Ron flushed. "I looked like I was mugged after that night. Mum nearly made me quit."

Hermione smiled. "I'm so happy everything is working out."

"Especially since you've come back. Everything's been feeling... it's like we've needed you all along."

She laughed and as she opened her mouth, Harry came through the door. He looked fairly exhausted, like Ron had in the morning.

"Tough day?" Ron smirked.

"I'd rather have your hangover."

"Hermione has a good cure."

"Did it have any rats' tails in it?"

Hermione huffed. "What's with everyone thinking there are rats' tails in everything?"

The two boys exchanged glances and held their laughter. Harry spoke up, "Long story."

"Mum found a little family of rats' when we first moved in. She bitches about rats' tails ever since."

Harry smiled, recalling the story and Mrs. Weasley hitting Ron's head with her magazine. She shouted at him for not being responsible or something.

"It didn't for that matter," she answered, somewhat proud.

"It wasn't that nasty tasting. I still hate your Muggle aspirin. Harry insists on it for when ever he gets home from a rough day," Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry looked at her. "You gave him Muggle medicine?"

"Chocolate milk and aspirin," Hermione smiled. "I learned it a few summers back."

He laughed and Ron shrugged, with a grin on his face. "That means you can't skip out on work anymore."

"I can fake."

Hermione laughed and opened her mouth, but there was a knock at the door, stopping them all. Ron looked over at Harry.

"Who's that?"

He shrugged and then unlocked the door. The visitor's eyes were right on Hermione already. She shrunk back into the seat as he narrowed his eyes.

"Viktor," Hermione said, getting up unsteadily. "I thought you were out with the team for the week."

"Vell, not for a veek." Viktor's eyes were solid and unmoving as he stared back at Hermione.

Ron stood up quickly and looked over at Harry. "Hermione was just over for a small visit. You could stay if you wanted as well."

His eyes slid over to Ron but then returned to Hermione. "I do not think so."

"Oh, why not?" Harry cut in. "It's late anyway. You can stay for dinner."

"I haff already eaten."

Hermione cringed as he cut off her friends and only stared directly at her. She felt herself shrinking before him as Ron spoke.

"Well, then please, just stay the night. It's late already. You can Apparate home early tomorrow," Ron smiled.

Hermione looked at him, "We can leave early, Viktor."

Viktor let out a sigh, "Fine. Ve vill stay over."

She smiled weakly as Viktor stepped inside. Harry gave her a glance but Hermione looked away, ashamed. This time he couldn't read the story.

She would have to tell it.

* * *

It was not much later when everyone was tired and uncomfortable from the awkward atmosphere. As Hermione shut the door behind her in her room, she saw Viktor was sitting on the bed, looking up at her with hard sharp eyes.

"Did you expect me to not find you?"

She opened her mouth but she couldn't speak.

"Vhy are you ungrateful, Hermione? Am I not a good husband?"

"Please Viktor," Hermione said quietly. "Can we talk about this in the morning?"

She quickly changed and then slid under the covers next to him. Hermione half-expected to feel his hands creep on her sides, but they didn't. She had also expected him to hit her right in that doorway. Hermione wanted him to be sober; she wanted him to be normal again. It was that, or she wanted him gone.


	7. Discovery

Thank you for the lovely reviews, once more.

Read & review!

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Chapter Seven

When Hermione woke up, it took her a second to recollect the previous night. She looked over and Viktor was there, snoring. It could have been like everything was normal again, except that this was not their home.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and she felt Viktor stir. His eyes were sharp although it was early.

"Ve haff to talk, Hermione."

She bit her lip and then nodded as she stood up. He sat up, and eyed her, as though she posed a threat.

"You can not just leave me like that," he said.

Hermione could hardly believe his words. Her leaving? He left for weeks for Quidditch and all she wanted to do was visit Harry and Ron after two years. Viktor narrowed his eyes as she opened her mouth to protest.

"Hermione, you obviously do not understand the position of a house vife," Viktor said sharply. "You stay home; you cook dinner and that is nearly it. You do not just _leave_ me."

"Viktor," she said breathless. "You left _me_. I –"

"If you are ungrateful," he snarled as he stood up, "then vhy don't you leave me? Vhy haff you stayed vith me?"

Viktor loomed over her, his eyes making her nervous. Hermione knew better than to reply to him. Even if she had the courage to do, she couldn't as her voice was lost again.

He eased slightly. "Sometimes you haff common sense, Hermione. Sometimes you are smart –"

"You don't control me," she snapped, without thinking, as she pointed a finger at him.

Viktor grabbed her wrist. "Vhat vas that, Hermione? Am I vrong?"

She gulped as he grabbed her other wrist. He shook her and his eyes narrowed again.

"Vhat did you say?" he smiled out of the side of his mouth.

Hermione gulped again and without warning, he slammed her into the walk. She cringed as it seemed to awaken the old bruises that had begun healing.

"Vhat is the matter, Hermione?" Viktor said louder. "I am not good enough for you?"

She tried to pull herself free but his grip was stronger as he held her tighter.

"Vhy are you so ungrateful?" he hissed. "I give you everything. You do _nothing_. Vithout me, you vould fall apart."

Neither heard the light patter of footsteps in the hallway.

"Vhat is vrong vith you, Hermione?" He pushed her arms back against the walls. "You used to be so good –"

Harry appeared in the doorway, the light pouring in behind him. Hermione squinted and Viktor for a brief second raised his hand to his eyes. But Harry drew out his wand and Viktor fell backwards. He grunted and attempted to stand up.

"Get out!" Harry shouted at him, his wand still pointed at him. Viktor did so, quickly as he roughly pushed past Harry. Hermione stayed tense until she heard the front door close with a significant slam.

She then slid down the wall, putting her head in her knees. Harry sat beside her.

"Hermione?" he asked softly.

The tears of frustration came falling again, this time easier, this time thicker. "I'm so sorry, Harry. It's all my fault."

Harry shook his head sadly. "No, Hermione. That kind of stuff isn't your fault. It's his."

She looked up at him, surprised he seemed so calm. "Where's Ron?"

"Practice," Harry answered as she stayed still.

There were a few minutes of silence before Harry broke it again.

"How long, Hermione?" he asked even more soft than before.

Hermione averted her eyes.

"Obviously it's happened before."

He was right. He was so right, but how could he have noticed? She looked at him, his face was so close and filled with anger, but so calm.

"Not long."

He seemed to relax slightly. "Hermione, you should have come sooner."

"I know," she whispered to him.

Harry's warm hands brushed away the tears on her eyes. "It's good that you even did. I didn't expect to see you ever again. And you're my best friend, Hermione. That's a scary thought."

She smiled and looked back at his bottle green eyes.

"You should have a better life."

"I'm trying," she whispered as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

Harry felt his emotions rage inside of him. Those feelings were lost, not supposed to come back. They rose and rose but he pushed them back down.

Hermione looked up at him again as she brushed her fingertips over his hand. "Harry?"

Neither of them knew who did it first. Neither of them wanted to. It was possible they had both approached each other at the same time, or maybe there was an invisible force that thrust them both together.

But it didn't matter. Hermione was suddenly filled with a new sensation that wasn't happiness or lust. It was something different, something she couldn't place.

Something she had yet to experience, she had yet to understand. Sometimes when Hermione didn't know something or was out of the loop, she persisted so she felt the completeness.

Yet this new feeling, she wanted to keep it new and undiscovered.


	8. Infidelity

I'm not too sure about this chapter... but thanks to everyone who reviewed.

Read & review!

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

She was asleep on top him, holding onto him as if he'd fly away. Harry, however, was wide awake staring up at the ceiling like he had a few nights earlier. Even though the ceiling was exactly the same, the eyes looking at it had a different view.

He shut his eyes for a second, the previous events flashing on the back of his eyelids. Her nails dug into his back, leaving red marks. They fell back on the bed, narrowly making it in the darkness. He smiled as her breath tickled his ear.

He snapped into reality as she slightly stirred. Harry looked down at her, but she did not wake. None of this should have happened, he thought to himself as he rubbed his eyes. Harry grabbed his glasses and peered at the clock next to the bed. It was nearly eleven.

Ron still wouldn't be home for hours.

They could create a solution. No one had to know what happened. But there was a pull on Harry's stomach as he thought this; he _wanted_ people to know his rediscovered feelings, but Hermione? What about Hermione? He had the feeling she would be ashamed for the infidelity even towards her abusive husband. However, Harry couldn't be sure. Hermione had changed more than he had ever expected in the past two years.

He looked down at her again, as she clung to him tighter even in her sleep. Harry was afraid to touch her for the large purple and yellow bruise took up most of her torso. He was frightened that she would break in half if he dared touch her.

Hermione had obviously come to them for more than just nostalgia; she came for protection. Harry was suddenly filled with rage as he thought of Viktor, touching her and hurting her. Hermione was so fragile, how could he treat her in such an immoral way? Viktor didn't deserve Hermione.

She stirred again, this time her grip loosened. Hermione lifted her head and squinted her eyes at Harry. He smiled weakly and her bottom lip trembled.

"Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't cry; it'll be all right."

Her eyes glistened with rising tears. "I – I didn't – We – Harry, did we –?"

Harry didn't have to reply to her. She dug her face into the crook of his neck and she wrapped her arms around his middle again.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said softly. "I – it was my fault –"

"You should stop saying that," Harry cut in. "It's not."

The coldness of her tears made him stiffen but he relaxed again. Hermione was cold against him suddenly.

"Harry," Hermione began quietly. "It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

This time, he wasn't sure what to reply with.

"Could we – Could we keep this between us, Harry?" she asked uncertain.

He looked back at her as she lifted her head to him. "As long as you tell me what happened between you and Viktor. Truthfully."

Hermione nodded and then put her head back down.

"Hermione?"

She turned her head to him.

"You don't have to tell me now or anything... Just when you're ready."

Hermione smiled at him and kissed him softly. She didn't want to keep it from him; at this point, there wasn't any reason not to tell him. But today she didn't want to sob over the hard memories; today she wanted to make new ones.

* * *

"No, see, you can't do that," Hermione laughed as Harry struggled with the oven. "You've got to turn that knob first."

He sighed. "That explains some things."

"Ron was right."

Harry smiled at her. "With him I shouldn't bother cooking. He's an amazing chef."

"I bet you I'm better."

"That's a bet."

"What's in it?"

He kissed her cheek. "Lots of things."

Hermione smiled. "Such as?"

"You'll have to wait and see."

"All right then. You're on."

Harry smiled as she took out the pots and pans and laughed as she scowled.

"Don't you two do the dishes?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes we forget."

Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes. "Not surprising."

"Blame Ron. I don't cook," Harry shrugged as he sat on the counter. "So what are you making?"

"It's a surprise."

"Surprises aren't fun!"

"_Waiting_ isn't fun. Surprises are."

He mused what she had said. Then, he finally smiled and laughed. "Fine. You win."

"Wait till you actually try this."

Harry rolled his eyes as she began pulling out the ingredients. "Wait till Ron finds out there might be a better chef in this world than him."

"So you're saying that he's conceited?"

"No – wait, yes, that's it."

Hermione looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. He was grinning, obviously pleased with himself. "Ron's your best friend!"

"He's only conceited when it comes to cooking."

She laughed. Today, she thought, it seems though nothing is outside the realm of possibilities.


	9. Recipes

Once more, thank you for the amazing reviews. I'm thinking of starting another story, just to pass the time. Don't think I'm going to stop this or anything, but just saying, when that comes out (soon) please check it out. !

Read & review!

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

"I give in."

She looked up and gave him a look.

"Ron can move out. You're a much better cook."

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. "You sure you're not just saying that?"

"Well, I'm saying it," Harry shrugged with a small smile. "And I mean it."

She smiled at him as she flipped another page in the magazine. "All right then. I win."

"Yes, you do."

"And what does this bet hold in store for me?"

"That is a secret."

"A secret."

He nodded proudly. "Yes, that is so."

"You mean like a surprise?" Hermione asked as she absently mindedly let her eyes wander over the words on the page.

"Never, surprises are terrible." Harry let his fork clatter in the sink. "That's why it's a secret."

Hermione smiled at him as he sat down next to her. "But they have just about the same definition."

"That doesn't mean they're the same exact little thing. Like, you could be holding a _surprise_ for a birthday party for Ron. But you could have a _secret_ that it was filled with all the Slytherins and Malfoy could be dressed up as a clown."

"You know, you might just have a point when you put it like that," she laughed as he slid his arm around her shoulders.

Suddenly it became quiet as Hermione looked up at him. Harry could only stare back at her. She leaned forward and kissed him softly; as she pulled away, Harry moved forward again. It was like a game: one would back away and the other would come forward. On and on it seemed to go until Hermione interrupted.

"Is this wrong, Harry?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "It couldn't be."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, slightly pushing him away by his shoulder as he leaned in.

"Sometimes you just know," he whispered barely audible.

And at that, the game was ended and neither pulled away.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell us this again?" Harry asked as Ron rushed around, picking up stacks of papers only to drop them back down.

Ron took a minute to answer as he searched desperately for whatever it was that he so badly desired. "Because it's Evan's cousin and apparently she's been down for a bit –"

"And you're kissing ass."

"No!" he dissented. "Evan's become a good friend of mine, plus it's not like she's ugly or some sort of Pansy Parkinson type."

"What's her name?" Hermione asked as she looked up from her book.

"Opal, I think. Some sort of rock or whatever."

Harry chuckled to himself as he caught eye contact with Hermione.

"Oh, shut it," Ron said as he gave up his frantic hunt. He grabbed his jacket from the side of the chair and pulled out his wand. "I'll be home late. Don't wait up."

"It's not like we're going to ask you for every excruciating detail when you get home," Hermione laughed. "You go have fun. Harry and I'll watch a movie."

"All right, you do that." He was nearly out the door. "By the way, where's Viktor?"

Hermione gulped but didn't dare look at Harry.

"Something urgent. He'll be out for a while, a few weeks maybe longer," Harry lied with a shrug.

"Jesus," Ron muttered. "That man never seems to be home."

Hermione shrugged. "That's why this'll work out perfectly."

"You have fun, now," Harry winked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Bye."

"See you," Hermione called as he shut the door.

"That," Harry muttered as he sat next to her, "was sufficiently awkward."

She shrugged. "Then let's not bring it up."

He watched as Hermione buried her nose deeper into the book. Harry wasn't sure of what to do or say until she looked up at him and a smile crept on from the side of her mouth.

"What is it?"

He couldn't answer. Harry wasn't sure what to answer with. Hermione stifled a giggle at his gaping mouth. She put her book down on the coffee table and then turned back to him.

"You want to get something good?"

Harry gave her a strange look, not understanding.

She laughed. "To eat. And to drink. Do you want to go out?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Better than this dump."

"You're apartment is nice," she said as she grabbed her coat and wand.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Lies. It's a piece of shit in a crappy area."

Hermione rolled her eyes and he locked it behind him. They took the stairs, as it was late and neither felt like Apparating down.

"So is this place some sort of Muggle shop?"

Hermione smirked as they stepped outside in the chilly breeze. "You know, it's not. I've actually found a Wizarding coffee shop I like."

He looked at her. "There's not a single difference between the coffee!"

"Oh yes there is," she laughed as Harry rolled his eyes.

"There is not."

"They use magic," Hermione pointed out.

"But that's –"

"And personally, it tastes a little stale whenever you make something with magic."

Harry leaned his head back and let out a laugh. "How could coffee be _stale_?"

"Those coffee beans could be."

"Well," he began, "it's _magic._ They might use _magic_ coffee beans."

Hermione laughed and playfully pushed him. "I just like Muggle coffee better. _I_ think there's a difference."

"Whatever you say," he shrugged with his hands in his pockets. Harry spotted a small dully lit shop on the corner with an exhausted looking cashier from what he could see. He glanced over at Hermione who smiled at him.

He held the door open for her as they came up to it. Harry gave an overdramatic bow, "After you, madam!"

Hermione smiled and stopped herself from correcting him. _Madam_ meant someone who was married. Viktor had slipped her mind and the two years along with him. She didn't force herself to forget him, but somehow she did. The feeling of guilt and infidelity was washed away she stepped into the dully-lighted shop with Harry right behind her.


	10. Regrets

So thanks to those that did review last chapter. This one, in my opinion, is much better than the last chapter. I'd say this story is about half-way through. Exciting, if I do say so myself.

Read & review!

_

* * *

_

Chapter Ten

Hermione woke the next morning to find herself in the same position as a few nights earlier. But this time, she was awake and Harry was sound asleep. She pried herself from his grasp, and pulled on some clothes.

She recalled this new feeling as she woke up next to him; whenever she had woken to Viktor being with her, she always felt as though it _wasn't_ right. Yet, this infidelity with Harry felt, well, right. Hermione sat down on the bed next to him, watching as his chest rose and fall. She lightly traced her finger on the slightly sunken scar on his forehead; he confessed to her that he hated it, it made him feel branded. Hermione had smiled that time and shook her head as she brushed his hair away from obscuring it. Personally, she found it soothing that such a small mark changed all together who he was and what others viewed him as.

Hermione got up from the bed, careful not to wake him. She closed the door lightly behind her and then walked towards the kitchen. She was perfectly unaware that Ron had seen her leave Harry's room, happy and dazed. He couldn't fathom what had happened between his two best friends. However, he did not mention it as he was healing from another hangover and did not feel like having an awkward ambiance to be cast over their home.

"Good morning," she said as she sat herself down next to him.

He grumbled something back as he read the newspaper with difficulty.

"Rough night?"

Ron shrugged. "Hangover."

She smiled. "Do you want me to help?"

He nodded, gratefully. "It wasn't too bad of a date. We... both of us just got a little tipsy."

"Oh really?" Hermione laughed.

Ron nodded as he went over to the refrigerator and took out an ice pack. Hermione handed him the aspirin and the glass. He grunted as he quickly downed them both and laid his head on the ice pack.

"Are you going to see her again?"

"I hope so," he said against the table. "She wasn't ugly."

Hermione smiled as she took the paper over to herself. "Well, that's good."

After a few minutes, he began to feel relief and lifted his head again. He was shocked to see that Hermione wasn't showing any signs of something between herself and Harry. Any other time when he was either completely sober or drunk, Ron would have approached the subject demanding to know everything.

But lucky for the two of them, he was too piqued to do so.

* * *

She received the first letter around noon of that day. It had her name in his handwriting, messy but somewhat legible.

Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted to open it. She didn't know. So Hermione thrust it in her dresser and forced herself to forget about it. She didn't want to know what he was thinking or what he thought these days. She didn't want to know if he was changing and wanted her back or if he wanted her to never come home.

So she shoved the letter in the drawer along with the memories and constant apprehension. Hermione told herself she didn't need him; she never really did.

Once she stepped out of her room, she spotted Harry at the kitchen counter and caught a glimpse of Ron slamming the door behind him.

"Where's he off to?" she asked as she walked up the hallway.

Harry yawned. "Fred and George's."

Hermione stood next to the counter, tugging at the frayed bottom of her sweatshirt. "Harry, about this... this thing –"

He knew what was coming. She was feeling guilty. Hermione wanted out.

"– I don't know if it's working," she finished softly. Harry braced himself as he felt his stomach fall farther down.

Harry actually had feelings for Hermione, as strange and obscured as they were. However, she was an orthodox type of person and Hermione felt she just couldn't do that anymore, to herself, to Harry and even to Ron.

He let out a shaky breath.

"It's funny," he said quietly, his head bowed down as he tapped his fingers rhythmically against the counter. "That the ones we trust most hurt us the _most_."

He spat the last part and stormed up from his seat. Harry stomped down the hallway, careful not to let his frustration out in the open. He so badly wanted her to come up from behind and grasp his shoulder, tell him she was kidding, she was sorry.

Hermione watched with misery as he stormed away. She didn't know whether she wanted this or if it was only for the better of things. But Hermione was scared.

It could be that Viktor had gotten her to thinking that, yes, you can love someone but in time they won't love you back anymore and they might just hurt you in unthinkable ways. Hermione couldn't place what made her end it all, with just a few words, followed by a trenchant response from Harry. Maybe he was right. And maybe she was wrong.

Or maybe she should have just left everything behind, away from Viktor, Ron and mostly Harry. She had never felt that way about him but all of sudden she did. Hermione found her self adoring everything about him, even though it was so wrong. He knew her secrets and she knew a few of his.

Maybe the two of them were never meant to be, just an experiment to test it all out. Not meant to last.

Hermione found herself once more in a terrible position; only it was worse this time. Hermione wasn't a victim. Suddenly, she found herself as the cause to all of it.


	11. Toasts

This is where I hit my big writing streak. In the end, I always get way more inspiration. So, the quicker & more reviews I get the faster you'll see an update.

Read & review!

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_

Ron sat behind the register letting everything mull over. Harry and Hermione... Was that the reason she really came back? Or had it developed? His two best friends, oh they just couldn't be... could they? He mentally hit himself for not noticing earlier. For once, Harry seemed in high spirits and he didn't shy away from Hermione as Ron had seen him shy away from other women. He had never been quite sure why, maybe apprehension that they would only take him as the Boy Who Lived.

He let his head rest in the palm of his hand and let out a sigh. Ron forced himself to think of the previous night, with Evan's cousin. Ironically, her name wasn't Opal or any other rock as Ron had figured. It was Jewel. She was very pretty and he could feel himself falling for her. She was shy and somewhat uncomfortable, but so was he. Who wouldn't be on a blind date?

But then they both started warming up to each other after a few drinks and funny stories. She told him she'd love to see him again and that the date was much better than she expected. They made plans for the next week.

Jewel was unlike anything Ron had seen. She was beautiful, not in the exotic tranquil state Fleur was, but in a classic sense. She had long, blonde hair that fell a few inches down her shoulders. Jewel had bright blue eyes that seemed to compare to a summer sky.

Soon enough his thoughts drifted to Hermione and Harry. Ron felt a desperate need to know what happened between them. Harry seemed happier, more carefree than he had in the past two years. Ron believed it had something to do with the final battle, the conclusiveness of it all. Harry had defeated the Dark Lord and completed the prophecy. However, their last day at Hogwarts had been such a day that Ron could remember as golden. Absolutely perfect.

* * *

_Hermione leaned her head back and let out a laugh as the new summer sun washed over her face. Everything seemed brighter, lovelier than it had ever before. Harry stood on the rocks by the lake and watched as they threw food into the lake. Even the giant squid appeared to be celebrating as it often raised itself above water only to splash back down._

_Harry smiled and jumped down. He sat under the shade of the tree with his two best friends. Hermione raised an arm over her face, and waved her hand. Ron leaned against the trunk of the tree with Hermione._

_"How does it feel?" Hermione asked with her head tilted to the side._

_Harry focused on ripping off a piece of his nail. "How does what feel?"_

_"Defeating him," she grinned as he looked up. "It's like you're free, Harry. You don't have to worry about any of that stuff anymore."_

_Harry looked back at the castle, how did he feel? He couldn't put it into words._

_"It's weird," he said softly as he pulled at the grass. Ron straightened up. "I feel happy, that, you know, everyone is safe. But at the same time I'm upset."_

_"Maybe just because we're leaving," Ron said hoarsely. "You know, it's not like it's final or anything."_

_Hermione smiled at him, flashing her white smile. "I know that feeling."_

_"You do, do you?" Harry said sullenly. "Then how come it seems I'm the only one that shows it?"_

_"Because everyone has different ways of showing it, Harry," Hermione told him softly. "I know that feeling."_

_"That you're growing up too fast?" Harry grumbled._

_Hermione waved her hand. "Oh please, Harry. _I_ am the one getting married next week."_

_"I forgot about that," Ron muttered. "I can't believe we can't come. To our own best friend's wedding!"_

_Hermione gave him a face. "It's a tradition Viktor's family has done. It's just our parents. It's not like you're being excluded or anything."_

_"You're lucky, Hermione," Harry said softly as he still pulled at the grass._

_She smiled at him. "I know."_

_"You get your life right when you step away from Hogwarts," he whispered. "We have to go through _more_ torture."_

_Hermione let out a laugh once more. Ron smiled as well._

_"I was actually speaking in the sense that I have the most remarkable best friends ever," Hermione said watching him intently. He refused to look up. "It's not the end, Harry. Just a different beginning."_

_Ron reached over to the blanket and pulled out the fire whiskey his brothers had sent to him. Hermione groaned but Ron poured the glasses anyway._

_"Let's make a toast," he said giving them their drinks. "It may sound cliché and whatnot, but I think we need it."_

_Hermione finally could not resist a smile and took her drink. She raised it. "To best friends till the end of time."_

_"To leaving this hell," Ron grinned raising his glass._

_They waited for Harry, until a curvilinear shape took over his mouth. "To growing up."_

_And they drank._

_

* * *

_

What had happened to those times, Ron wondered. What had happened to best friends till the end of time? To leaving hell? To growing up? But it hit him harder than a Bludger.

To falling in love.


	12. Healing

Sorry for the wait, I planned on updating yesterday, but I got caught up in studying for all these tests I was to have today, but I had a snowday & powers lines crashed so I had no cable or power until about an hour ago. But, please, enjoy!

Read & review!

_

* * *

_

Chapter Twelve

She received the next letter the following morning. Hermione hadn't even bothered glancing at it as she recognized his owl and quickly stuffed it in her drawer. He obviously wasn't going to let up.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair as she sat on the bed. She stared at the door, listening for sounds of change. She heard his door slam, his feet against the hard wood floor and then the front door close. Hermione was alone.

She was alone physically, mentally and in her heart. Viktor had hurt her and she feared she would be hurt by Harry or vice versa. The ever-rising grief was building up in her tear glands as the thoughts and possibilities raced before the back of her eyelids. Anything could have happened if she stayed with him. Anything good or anything bad.

Hermione pushed herself off the bed and opened her bedroom door. She stepped down the hallway and slid inside the bathroom. Hermione quickly stripped off her shirt and pants. She examined herself in the mirror. The bruises were visible all around her body from him. They had become less tender but still ached. The details on them had faded. She was healing.

But was she? She found herself with that feeling of tugging sensation that said _go fix this_. Hermione couldn't, though. She didn't know how. She could return to Viktor, she could stay with Harry and Ron or... Or she could disappear from the face of the earth. She could cut her hair, change her name, and become someone she'd always wanted to be. But in all honestly, Hermione didn't want to.

She ran her hands along her sides, feeling the bumps and bruises over her light skin. The vulnerability Viktor had given her had melted not too long ago, yet Hermione was frightened as she recalled all the stories of each one. The flashes of pain, the lingering sensation of anxiety.

Hermione could not place what was so different in her reflection, besides the fact that her black eye had completely healed. Something made her appear different from the last time she checked. She leaned forward to scrutinize her face, something she had never been very confident about. But she could find no visible clues to why she appeared so unusual.

She pulled her clothes back on when she heard the front door slam again. It was Ron this time, she knew without even sticking out her head. Hermione closed the door quietly behind her and she saw Ron pour himself a glass of fire whiskey. Although he tended to drink a lot, even at that time it was early.

"Ron?" she said, coming up beside him. "Are you all right?"

He stared up at her, his eyes silently searching for some sort of weak point to find out what had happened. It plagued him as he walked down the busy streets; the sensation of being in the middle of his two friends made him uneasy.

"Yeah," he said, then taking a sip. "Just a rotten day."

Hermione nodded and then muttered, "I know what you mean."

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, setting his glass down.

She shrugged. "I heard the door slam, I'm not really sure."

"Probably went out running again," Ron rolled his eyes.

"Running?" Hermione asked looking at him. "Since when does Harry run?"

"Since we moved in," Ron said taking another sip. "You've never heard him get up in the morning to take a run? Well, actually, the past few days he hasn't. Probably 'cause he didn't want to wake you up, but he's a runner all right."

Hermione stared out the window. She didn't want to think the most cliché of thoughts; that he was running away from her. She let out a deep breath and then sat down.

"How was that date by the way?" Hermione asked as he sat down next to her.

Ron suddenly couldn't help himself but to smile. "It went very well. We're meeting up again next week."

"What was her name again?"

"Jewel," he said smiling.

Hermione smiled and laughed. "Oh, it is love."

Ron playfully shoved her shoulder. A blanket of silence overcame them. They each thought of what love was to them. To Ron, it was a beautiful girl on a beautiful night in a beautiful restaurant. To Hermione, she thought of pain and confusion. She couldn't place what was love to her. She couldn't place whom she loved.

"You remember that day," Ron said softly. "Our last day at Hogwarts? By the lake?"

Hermione smiled and the memory quickly surfaced. "So well."

"You remember that toast we made?"

Her smile seemed to fall to the floor. "I remember."

"It's a shame we only got one of them."

"What?" she asked slightly puzzled.

Ron shrugged. "It was to best friends till the end of time, to getting out of hell and to growing up. All we accomplished was growing up."

She realized he was right. Best friends didn't mean you leave for two years. She had been absent when they needed her most; when _Harry_ needed her most, when he needed to adjust to the new feelings that overcame him. And getting out of hell didn't mean you go to a home where you were beaten.

Slowly, tears overcame her sight. Everything was blurry and before she knew it, Hermione was sobbing. But she wasn't crying for her own pain, or for Harry's, or for Ron's, or for absolutely anyone.

She cried because suddenly everything was so clear to her. This was growing up.

This was getting older.


	13. Departure

I don't like this part very much, but whatever.

Read & review!

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen_

He let out a long breath as he felt his side cramp. All he had to do was push and push and it'd be gone. It was a path he hadn't used in a fair amount of time.

Harry felt slightly stiff. He quickened his pace a bit, hoping to get ten miles in for the day. His steps were all that he could hear even as the Muggle cars passed him by. Another secret he kept for himself; Harry liked to run in the Muggle neighborhoods of London. It reminded him before magic, before Lord Voldemort.

He wasn't an avid runner; it was just to keep him focused and somewhat content. Lately, he'd been feeling a little different, however. Harry couldn't bring himself to think of Hermione and not scream out. She was incredibly striking to add to the fact she was very smart and kind-hearted.

But she never loved him back. She never loved him when he loved her. Hermione loved Viktor. She loved him though he had harmed her. She _loved_ him.

Harry couldn't bring himself to say he didn't love or need her. He did. Unknowingly, he quickened his pace even more.

His thoughts were only on Hermione. Her laugh, her voice, her hair, her eyes, she was suddenly everything. She was the sky coming down on him, swooping over and swallowing him whole as the sky darkened. Hermione had been his everything once before.

In their seventh year, she had been. She would always smile and her dancing chocolate eyes would glisten even more as she spoke excitedly. She had plans, then. She was going on to even more bigger and better things. That was when Hermione was going to marry Viktor and still be best friends with Ron and Harry. That was when everything was going to turn out fine.

It changed quicker than anyone could predict.

Suddenly Hermione didn't show up to the Christmas parties, or the small get-togethers. She didn't answer the short letters, or give presents during holidays. She was gone, disappeared from the face of the earth, Harry thought. But no, she was with her darling _Viktor_ who showed his affection by using her as a punching bag.

His pace quickened even more in the sheer darkness as he thought of Hermione and Viktor. He thought of the two years, when she was with Viktor. She loved him dearly, he recalled her saying in seventh year. He was _perfect_. The situation was _perfect_. Everything would turn out _perfect_.

He clenched his nails deeper into the raw hide that had been his skin. Harry dug his feet into the ground, wishing that he would go fast enough that his feet would leave the earth and fly away.

Harry wouldn't let Hermione back into his thoughts. He brought up all barricades in his mind, not letting any thoughts because everything reminded him of Hermione.

After all, she was his everything.

**&&&**

Hermione stuffed her bag, quickly and silently. Ron appeared in the doorway, the pungent smell of milk seeping in from his glass. She looked over her shoulder.

"Hey, I was thinking –"

"You're leaving?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

She stood up and brushed her hands off. "Well, can't really trust Viktor by himself, you know. He's not a –"

"He hurt you," Ron blurted out. He had yet to expose the fact he had been suspicious that Viktor had hurt her from the start. But without a shadow of a doubt, he knew his presumptions were correct right on the dot.

Hermione shivered, suddenly aware how cold it was. She refused to connect eye contact with him. "No, we –"

"Hermione," he said softly. It had only been a couple hours since he had gotten home but suddenly his nostalgic day turned into a rotten, twisted one as he watched his beloved best friend go through the torture of lying to everyone, including herself. "Please don't lie any more."

It didn't matter that Ron was trying to help her or just being a dutiful best friend, she suddenly loathed the fact he was tell her what to do. She didn't have hatred towards him; it was just what he was doing. It was what Viktor had done all along.

"You don't have any say in what I do, Ron," she forced her words to sound snarling. "I'm sick of people tell me what to do. You don't own me, Viktor doesn't either – no one does."

With a wave of her wand and before Ron could say anything else, Hermione's things were all packed. She picked up the recently opened letters and shoved them towards Ron. Could they be the source of her sudden actions?

Before he realized it, Hermione was gone. She was gone before he could tell her anything, how she had seemed to make everyone genuinely happy again, how much they were worried about her and how – if their conversation had gotten intense enough – should couldn't possibly leave Harry. For once, he was comfortable with her, unlike any woman before.

Hermione had vanished, Ron knew to Viktor's and he knew she might not come back. At that moment, he glanced at the letters. He squinted at the messy script to decipher them. Ron could see dried tear stains on the parchment as well.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know you are angry with me, as you should be. I have been a terrible husband – I never should have done those drugs or drank so much alcohol. I love you very much, Hermione. If you even end up reading this letter, I hope you know that I will try to become a better man to you. I won't hit you and I won't yell at you. I promise._

_Please, Hermione. Give me another chance. I will do anything._

_Love,_

_Viktor_

The next letters each seemed more urgent and much longer, yet less convincing. He _had_ hit her, Ron thought to himself. He shuddered when he thought of the rest. Hermione had handed over all of the secrets of her and Viktor's relationship in a matter of a few pieces of parchment. They seemed to burn his hands like acid.

Before he could do anything else, the front door slammed. Harry appeared, breathless and sweating. When he saw Ron's face he didn't need the words that followed.

"She left."


	14. Home

This part is long, but I'm pretty confident in it. I re-wrote this chapter about four times, with two different completely ways the story would go & then I go this.

Read & review!

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Chapter Fourteen

There was something in the air that forced Hermione away from the Muggle train station. It could have been the vomit underneath one of the benches, but she was almost sure it wasn't. If there was any wind that day it would have blown her off her feet in that direction.

She raked her fingers through her mangled hair, wishing she'd at least paid a small amount of attention to her appearance before she left. After spotting a restroom nearby, she slipped inside and hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder.

Hermione was surprised when she spotted her appearance amongst one of the thousands of mirrors reflecting back at her, with all different angles. This was what everyone had seen her as. This was what she looked like.

Was it? Because there was an unidentified sparkle in her eye and her face seemed fuller than it had in years. She had changed, obviously. Hermione had gained a little necessary weight on her but that wasn't all. There was something changing inside of her, changing who she was and how people would react to her. Then she took it in a perspective as something new, something needed.

She wasn't Hermione Granger anymore. She was stranger in her own skin. Someone she'd never met before but soon enough she'd understand everything.

But for now, she'd need an escape.

**

* * *

**

It didn't occur to her she'd get this far at all. She expected her nerves to come up and push her back into line. But something had restrained them and Hermione was running freely.

She sat on the train, clutching her bags tightly. Her eyes were fixed on the reflections in the window, not the outside images but the ones taking place behind her.

A young man took the seat next to her, not really paying much attention to her only the book he held in his hands. The sky grew darker within time as Hermione still watched the young man in the reflections on the window.

He seemed a slow reader as he hardly turned the pages and his eyes were slow moving. They had been on the train for an hour when finally Hermione sat forward, her eyes now fixed on the graffiti on the chair in front of her.

These Muggle stations always had been dirty, she thought to herself. Why hadn't they bothered to clean them?

Unbeknownst to her, the young man closed his book softly. His head was slightly bent down, but his slate eyes were fixed on the side of Hermione's face.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the man asked in his quiet gentleman voice.

She jumped nearly a foot in the air, unaware he had been focusing on her. "Um – no, I don't believe so."

The train's wheels screeched as the brakes were turns on. They announced Hermione's stop and she gratefully stood up, gathering her things and waited for the young man to move.

"What's your name?"

She didn't answer and still waited for him to move. The young man looked up at her behind lively grey and patiently remained in his seat for her answer.

"None of your business," came the answer from a voice that seemed not to belong to Hermione. But she felt her lips move and she pushed past him, walking quickly down the aisle. That man had no right to pry into her life, but in curiosity before exiting, she peeked over her shoulder and glanced at the young man, who was still staring at her, as if waiting.

Everything was still the same, she realized, standing in the middle of the train station. Everything was how it had always been. There was more graffiti, nonetheless, but underneath those layers there were ones that Hermione found vaguely familiar from the years of her childhood.

Her steps were slow and deliberate and she let her eyes explore everything in the station. She spotted everything she never really noticed before; her eyes seemed clean and swift as they sucked in all the images for Hermione to see.

Once she had left the station, everything came back to her. Hermione's steps quickened to a normal, slightly fast, pace as she walked down the empty town, her bags still on her shoulders. Her back began to ache but that was nothing compared to the feeling inside of her of nostalgia of looking at the childhood houses, where all her friends used to live.

There had been Amanda and Scott, the twins and Eileen the brat, Patricia the shy one and Michael the cute one. There were many names that floated around in Hermione's head and many faces she could not recognize. There were memories and feelings that overcame her as she walked down the empty street. The only sound came from her feet.

Then she spotted her own home. Her body seemed to be consumed with a feeling she couldn't recognize. It had been empty for a year, now. Her parents left it to her but Viktor didn't find it necessary to use it. She thought maybe of selling it at one point, but that quickly left her mind. First the memories came.

Everything was in place. There were weeds in the garden and the grass was very overgrown, but there was a chip in one of the bricks on the side of the house where one of the boys across the street had thrown some sort of heavy toy at. Her parents laughed it off and told him it was fine.

Then the tears came.

Her tears were soft and heavy at first, the salt burning the cuts from biting her lip on the train. Then they came more freely as she was choked up and found it hard to breathe without crying. This had been her home. How could she have abandoned it for Viktor? Back then she didn't know. Back then she had no idea, no inkling. Was it her fault?

No, she finally said. It wasn't at all. Wiping her eyes with her sleeves, Hermione took a few more steps towards her home. She quickly found the spare key, hidden under a loose brick that always tricked everyone. Hermione fit it in the lock and turned it, holding her breath when she heard the click. She stepped inside, and threw her bags to the ground. Everything was in its place. Everything from the last time she had been there, a year and a half ago for Christmas dinner.

She trailed her hand along the wall, remembering how her mother would yell at her for getting them dirty. For some reason, she couldn't stop, just like biting her nails or biting her lip. It was something that just happened; it was something you couldn't stop.

Hermione quickly snapped her hand away, as she had done when her mother would yell at her. Then she turned on the lights, letting the yellow lights wash over everything. She let the house discover some sort of light that it hadn't seen in a year. Everything seemed dulled more than she could remember. Of course, nothing had been cleaned in a year.

She missed everyone. She missed her crazy aunts and her loud uncles. She missed her obnoxious cousins who always poked and prodded at her whenever she would sit on her stoop, reading a book while the boys and the girls would flirt and play. She missed her parents above all her family, of course. She missed those perfect white dentist smiles and how they were so carefree. They never really yelled at her, only said things with a way that made her understand.

Her parents were gone now, too. Those cousins were miles away and most of her aunts and uncles were divorced or dead. She expected them to forget her, which they had, surprisingly. The essence of Hermione Granger the black sheep of the family had nearly completely left their minds when she couldn't make it to the funeral. To her _parents_ funeral. Had Viktor really had that much control over her? She pushed Viktor out of her head, as he had never been a good to anyone.

She picked up her bags and turned off the front lights. Her steps were softly, forgetting she didn't have to worry about waking anyone. Hermione didn't really want to sleep in her parents' bed, although now she was an adult. She headed for the room next to it and flicked on the light. The theme was yellow, light sunshine and all her Muggle and Wizarding books were neatly separated. This was her home.

She didn't even change as she turned the light back off and fell asleep at first contact with the warm sheets she had missed very dearly.


	15. Rest

Thank you for the lovely reviews. I'm going to be away till Monday afternoon, so no updates this weekend. I'm sorry, you'll have to make this one last for the weekend!

Read & review!

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_Chapter Fifteen_

Hermione Granger was finally at rest. There were no slamming doors or voices or bodies waking her up. She had slept well and the bags under her eyes were gone for the first time in her life.

The sunlight wafted in through the cracks of her curtains. She could hear shouts of children playing and adults speaking. It was summer, how could she have forgotten? She seemed to have forgotten those Muggle summers.

She sat up and stretched, then pulling off her clothes from the day earlier. Everything in her closet was too small or too young. So she settled back for her usual clothing, but soon enough she'd get a new wardrobe. Hermione was surprised to find that it was late in the morning; she went downstairs to fix herself breakfast.

Hermione sat at the table she had eaten meals at for the first time in a long time. This time she was alone; no one to the right of her, no one to the left. She didn't feel much like cooking; instead she took out all the handy Muggle tools for cleaning. Hermione didn't feel like using magic, either, for once. She cleaned every centimeter of the house, making this shine and smell like rose petals with the air freshener from too many years ago.

By two in the afternoon the house was clean enough for her mother to shout out in joy up above or wherever she was. Hermione could still hear and see all the children and adults outside. They seemed to avoid her house, as they probably made up ghost stories about the abandoned house where the parents died and the young girl never came home again. Until now.

She stayed inside for the day, admired the cleanliness she had given it and vowed to work on the garden the following day. The sunshine was all too welcoming to her; it wanted her outside, it wanted her happy. But the artificial sunshine color of her room suited her fine.

The books in their shelves were screaming to be read, but she had done that many times before. She laid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bruises still stung as they never seemed to have faded. It felt like they never would. She held her arms taut above her and examined the light outline of Viktor's muscular hands. It was hardly there, but enough to remind her. She clenched her fists, imagining if there was a ladder above all the way to outside of the atmosphere, outside of the universe, outside of infinity. She'd be gone and she'd be happy. They would all search for her, but in all the wrong places. No one expected her to go to the place before magic. She had missed that feeling, where everything was normal and you couldn't turn your mother's hair purple if she made you angry.

But she missed the feeling of being with others. She missed Ron, she missed Harry. She missed the boys that made her feel welcome and happy. She missed them more than anything else in the world. But Hermione had some sort of longing towards Harry that was unlike towards the way she missed Ron. She couldn't place it, even as she strained herself to think of what it was so that her head ached and her eyes fluttered beneath tired eyelids. The brown eyes were hidden beneath the layer of skin that separated her from reality and another world.

**

* * *

**

Harry was wreck, once more. He was vomiting nonstop for anything that he consumed. Ron watched him nervously, unsure if he should take him to St. Mungo's. He watched him reject anything that met his stomach. It didn't seem much like heartache to Ron.

Ron knocked on the bathroom door lightly, wondering if noise made Harry wretch as well. As he was only with the sounds that made his own stomach flop in an unruly way, Ron let himself in. Harry was leaned over the toilet, his face colorless and faded. That old expression seemed ancient, as Ron had mostly seen it before Hermione came around. He could never place what it was, maybe now he could. The half-open eyes with the faded emerald shade, like an essence of someone on a death bed. He seemed shrunken and disheveled in an ill sort of way.

"You okay, mate?" he asked softly, clutching on the doorframe as he watched Harry stare back up at him. Ron dug his nails into the paint, not noticing the fact his knuckles and face were paper white as it always got he terrified.

Harry waved him off, but his voice was teeming with sarcasm, "Oh yes. Lovely like a summer day, right?" His voice was strangled and hoarse.

"Harry," Ron said softly still. His grip loosened on the doorframe. "C'mon – tell me."

He slammed his fist against the sink. The sharp edge dug into his skin and split it so that the crimson liquid quickly budded on the cut. Ron stayed silent as Harry muttered to himself and wrapped a towel around his arm.

"It's Hermione, isn't it?"

Harry stopped for a second, but then continued moving. "Why would you say that? You'd have to expect she'd leave."

"I'd _expect_ you to go running after her, in a quixotic sense."

He gulped as Ron watched him, his eyes sharper than daggers. Ron knew and he had to have known for a bit of time.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, giving in slightly.

Ron threw his arms in the air and shook his head. "Do you love her or not?"

He nodded, shakily and slowly.

"Then what the _hell_ are you doing?" Ron screamed, pushing him towards the door. "Go find her!"

Harry grasped Ron's arms and looked at him sternly; the bottle green eyes made him wince a bit. "She doesn't love me. She didn't want –"

"Quite honestly, mate," Ron snapped. "If her husband's been beating her up then she's probably lying. She's scared, Harry."

She was scared. She had been. She was scared of Harry? Or of Viktor finding out? Ron watched his best friend, his gaze not wavering in the slightest.

"Not now," Harry finally said softly. "She –"

"She's probably getting beaten up right this second," Ron interrupted with a hurried expression. "So go! Go now!"

Harry shook his head, averting his gaze to the window. "She didn't go back to him. I'm almost positive."

"Then where the hell did she go?" Ron asked, dropping his arms.

Harry shrugged, still staring out the window at the sunlight streaming in. He wanted to say he knew, he knew where she had gone. In all honestly, he had no inkling where she had headed to.

Miles and miles away she was sound asleep, surprising for her at that time of day. Hermione lay still, sleeping peacefully for the first time in a long while. She didn't dreamt of men she loved for a short while, but then not again; she dreamt of people who of course loved her, but left the world far too early.


	16. Beginning

I'm lame, tell me about it. Everything possible to obstruct me from writing (colds, writers block, finals, homework, writers block, essays, vacations, writers block, etc.) happened. As I look back at what I've written, honestly, I'm not very happy with it. I think everyone very out of character.

However, I'm back, hopefully for good, but this next month I'm going to be _extremely_ busy, and a week from today I'm going to be gone for two weeks. Expect a few updates this week if I get lots of reviews, hint hint!

Anyways, read & review, as always you do. :D

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_Chapter Sixteen_

He sat alone, not quite sure what to do anymore. Everything had turned bitter. But who was to blame? Maybe it was Viktor, for hitting Hermione. Or Hermione could be the source, too; she was the one causing Harry the most torment. But in fact, Harry found that he was blaming himself for the pain. It was partially his fault as well.

The coffee in the mug in front of him had long been icy cold as he sat, unshaven and greasy as days piled up upon him. Ron had begun touring with his team and Harry found himself more lonesome than ever before. How long had it been since Hermione left? Hours? Days? Years? He racked his brain, but the heavy load of useless days blurring together obstructed him from knowing.

What had happened to the world? The sky had gone grey, and everything seemed darker. People appeared more hostile and unforgiving; Harry forced himself to attempt to enjoy what was left of his break. Yet as he clutched the mug in front of him, he couldn't brace anything as enjoyable. The clouds had swallowed the sky whole for what seemed as though since Hermione left. How could his best friend be causing him this much heartache? Could he even consider her his best friend anymore?

Harry ran his long fingers through the mangled chaos of his oily hair, his fingers hitting snags in the way. He didn't know quite how to explain something like this in words; it could be that it was much harder to breathe, harder to force himself up in the morning; life was just harder. Those feelings should have disappeared long ago when Hermione first left. But his wretched heart, also tired of losing everyone close to him, cheated him once more in a desperate attempt to keep her close.

With that, he pushed every single thought of Hermione Granger from his head, in hopes of achieving a state of piece. However, Harry could not clear the lingering essence of Hermione from his heart. Frustrated and tired, his hands grasped onto the mug and hurled it across the room.

The liquid stained the sheen white wall a nasty russet. The mug split once as it hit the wall, but as it fell to the floor, it shattered into numerous pieces scattered all around. At first Harry was slightly surprised at what had happened; almost unaware he had done it without thinking. He picked up his wand and flicked it to make the mess disappear.

If life was as easy to fix by waving a wand, then Harry would not be in this mess for longer than a second.

* * *

It was the first time in a long while that she could breathe freely without any trouble. Hermione felt more than unrestrained, for unrestrained definitely had its own boundaries. These days Hermione played it day by day, contemplating whether or not to get a job, whether or not to talk to the cute barista boy at the local coffee shop, and so on. She had no worries, not about Viktor or Harry or Ron or anyone part of her _previous_ life. But it was marking the week that she had left Harry and Ron's apartment that a young man she could hardly recognize approached her.

Hermione had been fixing up the front lawn, the way her mother used to. Her hair was pulled back sloppily, and her arms and legs were covered in soil. The spring sun beat down on her neck in an intensity she could only say was pleasing.

"Hermione Granger?"

Her head shot upward, as she had hardly been aware of the on goings around her. The voice she did not remember, the face was fairly familiar.

"Yes?" she asked, wiping away some of the dirt onto her shorts. "Can I help you?"

The man smiled, his strangely icy blue eyes striking a memory deeply buried in her mind. A face resurfaced, but not a name.

"It's just been a long time," he laughed. "You remember me, Paul Keith? I live just down the street, our parents used to put us together."

Hermione smiled. "Of course, how could I forget?"

His handsome face grinned in returned; age had definitely been the better for Paul as he had been a shy, chubby boy as Hermione remember.

"Are you taking a break from school?"

For a second Hermione had no idea whether to fall out lie or bend the truth. "Oh, yes, I am. I decided to come home for a bit, since it has been quite an amount of time."

"Your house has been empty for nearly a year. I was surprised to see the lights when I came home a few days ago."

Hermione nodded, "Yes, I've been busy."

"Well, hopefully you aren't busy this week," Paul ran a hand through his tousled mousy brown hair. "We're having that annual block party. You should come."

She smiled. "I almost forgot. Of course I'll be there though."

Paul laughed, slightly nervous all of a sudden. "Well, maybe – um, sometime this week, would you, uh, like to get coffee with me?"

Hermione laughed, "Of course, I'd love to. We have much to catch up on, after what? Five years?"

"I think seven."

"Well, I think it's a fair amount of time either way," Hermione couldn't suppress her large grin. "Noon, tomorrow then?"

Paul let out a sigh of relief. "Definitely, I'll come by and pick you up."

She nodded and took in a full look of Paul. He was tall and muscular, like Viktor, completely unlike Harry's lean stance. His icy blue eyes seemed to glow under his light brunette messy hair that wasn't quite like the natural ways of Harry's own.

Harry and Viktor were not the present men of her life, nor did she believe they would ever be apart again. Hermione pushed every essence, inkling, reminder of the men who she had been broken by and broken herself, and focused on the only thing she could see: another beginning.


	17. Revival

I'm surprised that I get about two thousand new hits on my story, & two reviews. I love you guys that did review, you are my life, thankyouthankyouthankyou. But I'm just kinda confused, for all you lurkers out there. I really would like to know what you think, except for flamers because they're lame.

This also might be my last update for about two weeks since, starting this Saturday, I'm going away for two weeks. Yeah, get it?

So, read & review, pleasepleaseplease?

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_Chapter Seventeen_

Ronald Weasley had always been clueless. Unlike Harry, he didn't have a sixth sense to tell him the most powerful and dangerous wizard was going to kill someone at the very minute. Ron also did not have the type of intelligence that Hermione had where she knew everything about everything or could easily understand the most complex situation the first time it was said. Quite basically, Ron never knew what was going on unless someone stopped to explain it for him.

It had never really bothered him much in their numerous adventures against Death Eaters or the Dark Lord, but all of a sudden, with Hermione's sudden arrival and departure, Harry's new atrociously disheveled appearance, Ron wanted to know everything immediately. Some things he had pieced together to get a gist of what the hell was going on. Like the day he saw Hermione slip out of Harry's room in the early morning, the time he saw Harry's envious eyes throw looks of hatred toward Krum, and just the over all ambiance of the apartment when Harry and Hermione were in the same room. Ron had gotten Harry to admit he loved Hermione, but so far that was all he could get from him.

He felt as though it was his own duty to fix up the situation, as he couldn't just let Harry go unshaven and grow a beard down to his ankles because if Hermione did ever come back she would surely be appalled. His imaginative thoughts were rudely interrupted by a harsh and painful slap on the back of his head, followed by laughter that he could distinguish anywhere.

"You're lucky we actually pay you," his older brother Fred smiled down upon him, his hand now on Ron's shoulder.

George came up on Ron's other side. "Actually, lucky for you that mum makes us pay you."

"Oh, yes, good point," Fred grinned largely.

Ron pushed away Fred's hand and shook his head. "I think I'm going to go crazy."

"We can help," the twins said simultaneously.

With an exhausted sigh, Ron began feeling that the whole world was up against him. He covered his eyes with his hands and shook his head at his brothers.

"Now, now," Fred said a bit more seriously as he and George sat down on the counter at Ron's register. "What is bothering our young brother? A charming lady, could it be?"

George smiled, "Or maybe a wretched warlock?"

Ron shook his head once more, possibly wondering if he should ask his brothers for help.

"Oh, so if it's not _Jewel_ –" Fred started.

He immediately sat upright, "How do you know about her?"

"How do we not?" George smirked.

"– then what could it be? A love triangle?"

"Maybe it's not even love!"

"Oh, George, you may be right! I smell murder!"

"I smell blackmail!"

"I smell bribery!"

"Will you two just shut up!" Ron yelled in fatigue. "It has nothing to do with me –"

George snorted. "Now, that is a flat out lie."

"How could you lie to your favorite brothers?"

"Yeah, Charlie and Bill haven't got anything on us."

"And Percy isn't even human, so he doesn't count."

Fred and George looked at each other and smiled before looking back at Ron. "My dear Ronald, do you know what time it is?"

Unknowingly, Ron glanced at his watch. "Half-past six."

"Nope," George grinned. "Time to get smashed!"

"My favorite time," Fred laughed teasingly as the twins grabbed Ron by his upper arms.

"Oy," George called out. "Catherine, close up for us will you?"

The young woman laughed and nodded as they left as she was unpacking some new product. "Sure thing."

Soon enough, Ron found himself squeezed in a tight pub between his older brothers. The bartender and a few waitresses seemed to know them by name, and it was clear they were regulars.

"Back to business?" George grinned as he took a sip of his fire whiskey.

Fred downed his shot and scrunched his face as the alcohol burned his throat. He slapped the small glass back on the bar and turned to his younger brother. "Before we actually do get smashed, please, tell what scheme you are currently entangled with."

"It hasn't got much to do with me," Ron shrugged.

George slapped him on the back of the head this time. "If it didn't, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"Well," Fred chuckled. "We would be, just we'd probably already be wasted."

His two older brothers stared down upon him, breaking his shield with their gazes. Ron finally gave in to his defeat. "It's Harry."

"Oh, good Lord –" both began.

"No!" Ron shrieked, and the twins broke out in laughter. When they once more claimed their dignity, he began again. "And Hermione."

"So, just Harry and Hermione? No triangle or any other type of polygon?"

"Why do I even bother?" Ron threw his hands in the air.

Fred elbowed him teasingly, "We're only kidding, Ron."

"We'll be serious for now. Then get smashed," George said blatantly.

Ron laughed despite the situation at hand of his best friends. "I think they love each other."

"That's great!" Fred grinned.

"No – that's not it," Ron said slowly. "Neither of them thinks the other loves them back. And Hermione's gone who knows where, and Harry's losing it, I swear. I don't think he's slept for days, and all he does is sit there. He hasn't run, he hasn't shaven, he hasn't eaten, and he's hardly said a word!"

All of it came out rushed and slightly mashed together, but Fred and George waited carefully as Ron burst out all that had been clouding his mind since he had returned from touring with his Quidditch team.

"Honestly mate," Fred began after a period of silence. "I don't think either of us has had quite something like this – and we don't know Harry or Hermione as well as you do."

"But this is their problem, isn't it?" George finished. "I mean, you're probably up there in both their priorities, but for now you might want to just wait. If Hermione's gone, mate, then, I hate to say it, but she's gone."

There was a silence between the brothers as Ron mulled over that there was hardly anything he could do about the situation.

All seriousness in the air was shattered when Fred asked, "So, how long is the beard?"

**

* * *

**The next day was one of the very last of Harry's time off. Ron felt as it was his position being Harry's best friend to make sure it was spent well. Though quite bitterly, to fix up his hangover, Ron quickly downed the concoction Hermione had taught him to make. 

Harry had moved from the kitchen counter to the couch, since it appeared his back hurt from hunching over for days straight. He often tried to fool Ron by pretending to be asleep, but Ron knew better than to believe him.

"Get up," Ron ordered as he pulled on Harry's ankle. "We're going out."

His best friend groaned and rolled over. A muffled voice replied, "Leave me alone."

"I'm not putting up with your bullshit anymore, Harry. Hermione's gone, I know. She was my friend, too!" Ron paused before yanking Harry's leg again. He continued when he was satisfied by a loud yell. "You can't keep thinking that moping around and growing a beard is going to bring her back. And on the subject, Hermione would probably be disgusted anyway."

At that, Harry lifted his head and stated weakly, "Does it really look that nasty?"

"Yes," Ron snapped, pulling Harry's leg again. Once he succeeded of tearing Harry away from the couch and heaved him to the ground with a loud _thump_, he continued once more. "Now, once you go get cleaned up, we're going out."

"I don't –"

"Right now, I don't care. Get up. Wash your hair. And _please_ shave that bloody awful beard before I rip it off your face."

Harry picked him self and rubbed his chin where it had definitely grown out a bit. "You sound like your mother."

"Then I've gotten my point across."

"You definitely have," Harry muttered as he headed towards the bathroom.

Ron smiled to himself when he heard the door slam and the water running. He knew that he could not fix a broken heart with a new girl or a few drinks, but at least he could get rid of that beard.


	18. Time

I'm home, & I'm excited to finish up this story. I'm pretty sure I've got the details mapped out now.

Oh, & by the way I finished the Deathly Hallows the day it came out. Which also means, this story is offically **Alternate Universe**, & at the end of this chapter I'm going to ramble & rant about the best book JK Rowling will ever write. Since I know people might not have finished, i'm tell you know & going to put up a warning.

Anways, read & review lovers!

**Remember!** Beware the bottom for spoilers of my rambling if you haven't finished TDH!

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_Chapter Eighteen_

As well as the spring, summer had melted away into the fall, and even that was coming to an end. Hermione was hardly aware of the days, weeks and months that mounded upon each other with each passing day. However, there wasn't a day that she did not think even just a little about her _previous_ life, as she now referred it as.

Paul had drifted on back to school, stating briefly before he left that it'd be best if they would remain friends as he wanted to concentrate on his work. But Hermione thought she knew better, he just was bored of her. She pushed him from her mind, into a list of men she no longer hoped to see again.

It was a chilly evening, and few couples were out walking about the town in searching for a restaurant of their tastes. As Hermione dug her hands deeper into her coat, she almost wondered what it would be like to be a Muggle. Life might be simpler; people couldn't deceive you with a potion or a wave of a wand. But then again, she never had to fold the laundry again. The November wind sliced and cut at her face and neck, but she pushed forward on her walk home.

Her life seemed like it was on hiatus, for the moment, not knowing what to do next. She considered getting a Muggle job, but then again, simply wandering and doing nothing suited her new lifestyle. Sometimes she wished she could be back with Harry and Ron, or, rarely however, with Viktor. At one point she considered writing to them, but she recalled the last time she got in touch. Things had not gone as planned.

Whenever Hermione thought of that first letter she closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath that rattled her insides. She didn't know whether or not she was glad to have seen Ron and Harry again. Most of the time Hermione wished that she could erase it all from her memory, but then there were times when she wished she never went off with Viktor in the first place. She was as indecisive as ever these days, often finding herself reflecting everything she considered a mistake her life and that consumed much of her time.

She pulled out her key as she headed up the stairs of the brick childhood home that had now officially become her home. Hermione threw her jacket on the kitchen counter as she strode inside the house. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the tawny owl waiting outside of the kitchen window. Air was not easily coming to her until the owl pecked its beak on the window, obviously annoyed with her. Hermione snapped to her senses and opened the window. The owl quickly dropped the letter in her hands before flying off into the darkness.

Eight months had gone by; she'd done so well, she thought to herself. And now it was all coming to an end with yet another letter. Her mind was struck with the question of finding her and _who_ had found her, as well. Hermione prayed it was neither Viktor nor Harry, but she felt luck wasn't on her side ever.

However, the foreign penmanship on the envelope definitely did not belong to either man, and all of a sudden her heart soared. She eagerly ripped open the letter and propped herself on top of the counter to read it.

_Hermione –_

_I'm think I'm going to kill myself if I have to write another one of these letters. It took me quite a while to track you down, and I even contacted Viktor (it was unpleasant and awkward, don't ask). We miss you. Everyone does, my entire family, the old Order members, and, you know, everyone. I hate to say this, but depending on the day, Harry misses you too. _

_I want to make myself clear, Hermione. I had an idea of what went on between you two, and, this might sound totally offending to you, I'm glad it happened. Well, not glad that it ended – this is sounding horrible on paper, isn't it? Sorry if it is, you're not here to correct it for me._

_Harry's getting on well now. He's been back on his feet for a few weeks, but sometimes I find him back in that old stage after the War. He doesn't know what to do with himself, and, honestly, you helped him past that. _

_I don't expect you to answer, Hermione. Hell, I'm not sure if this is the right address. I hope to God it is because we miss you. I hope you're all right, I hope you're getting along. My best of luck to you, I hope to hear from you._

_Ron_

Hermione was slightly surprised that the letter struck her as nothing. It had no horrible pang of guilt or a broken heart. She read it with foreign eyes as she picked it up off the street and read it out of curiosity. Despite her lack of emotions towards the letter, Hermione carefully stuffed the letter back in the envelope and placed it back on the counter.

She had no plans of answering him.

**

* * *

**Harry had been getting along fine, quite fine, but certainly not great or excellent. He was no longer miserable, at least, and he was hardly ever lonely. Each day was a new step for him, like his wretched heart finally began to understand that if it wanted to heal, it'd have to show little real affection or emotion to strangers. Getting attached was the worst of the worst case scenarios. Hermione Granger had taught him that lesson, and just the sound of her name ripped out one of the hard earned seams that held his newly mended but very cold heart. He made a point to not think of her. 

He sat at a crowded bar, a pretty young woman sitting next to him and flirting uncontrollably. Harry's eyes briefly wandered over to Ron and Jewel, whose relationship had been suffering incredibly in the past few days. They were fighting, stinging and hurtful words sprouting from their mouths like magic from their wands. Wouldn't that have been much easier, Harry had wondered in humor to himself.

"The Boy Who Lived," the girl smiled, her grey eyes turning up as she smiled. They might have sparkled if there was adequate lighting in the bar, but Harry did not know. He took a sip of his fire whiskey and smirked in a joking way before she continued. "You do know you're much more handsome in person? Well, I think you are."

Harry laughed as he placed his drink back down. "Good to know, I guess."

"So, where are you staying these days?"

"Do you want to visit or something?" he answered with a question and a matching smirk.

The young woman giggled as she took another sip of her drink. "I might like that."

Harry smiled and watched her as she put the glass back down in front of her. "I'd like that too."

Before he could say another word, she stuck out her hand, "Veronica Skirrow."

"Harry Potter," he smirked as he shook it. Her grey eyes flashed with laughter in the dark bar.

"You didn't have to tell me – or were you just being polite?"

"Polite, I guess," he smiled leaning forward on the bar. His green eyes never left hers.

She put her slim arm down across his waist. "Why don't we take that visit now? Then maybe I can figure out where to find you next time."

Her face was just brushing against his and he smiled. "Of course."

Nine hours, numerous shots of alcohol and two bottles of fire whiskey later Harry found himself in bed with Veronica and Ron suddenly single and with a girl named Rebecca. Veronica's pretty face could not erase the memory of Hermione from his mind, however. He ran his hand through his messy black hair as he watched Veronica shut the front door quietly behind her. He didn't even like her that much, but it was worth a try anyway.

Hermione seemed to be the only thing pushing him back underwater to drown in an ocean of confusion. Although he didn't want to believe it, it was also that only Hermione could release her hold to let him break through to the other side to finally breathe on his own.

* * *

**WARNING: **

**DEATHLY **

**HALLOWS **

**SPOILERS,**

as i'm going to rant.

eeeeegads!

Ahhhh, seriously the best book ever. I couldn't stop crying I was so happy! It makes _total_ sense for Snape to love Lily! That's why Dumbledore trusted him, because Harry was the only thing that reminded Snape of Lily! It's so perfect.

I seriously was sobbing at the part where Fred dies. Even thinking about it I have trouble breathing, but then again I've been getting more frequent panic attacks. I also **can not** believe Tonks & Remus got married & just had a kid like that! & then just dropped dead. I totally believe it would be the whole James-Lily-Sirius thing to Harry that it would be for Teddy! But of course, that ending, with him dying & yet living in the end, it was all to perfect & made so much sense! I was wondering if Harry could be a Horcrux himself at the end of the sixth book!

Well, that's all I'm gonna rant for now.

Read & review, loves!

**END **

**WARNING. **


	19. Meetings

All you stupid lurkers better thank **Dramaqueen247** (you are amazing, love!). They're the only one that reviewed, even though I got a ton of hits. If you're going to read, you better review. The next chapter is the last one, so if hardly anyone reviews I might just not update for a long time or ever. I don't like non-reviewers.

Need I say it? **Read & review.**

* * *

_Chapter Nineteen_

Each growing day between the two was a stepping stone in opposite directions of healing. Hermione had gone through a number of handsome young men, breaking hearts and spirits unknowingly along the way. Her strong spirit and confidence to bring men down was stronger than she needed it to be, but whenever she held herself weaker in the past she had shattered. How long had it taken her to rebuild herself? She hadn't a clue, and it was her goal to never have it happen again.

As for Harry, his healing was a deeply worn and rutted path he knew too well. Countless times had he been let down in his desperate attempt for a constant in his life for everything else had been temporary. But to be shattered by his best friend Hermione Granger was a new lesson, and his healing began with sealing his heart shut to the world. It was more difficult than he imagined, as many thoughts of her sprang up and broke small parts of his healing wounds. He had become what he always hated: a liar. His forced smiles came as easily as normal ones. The famous jade eyes followed along, playing along a lie for everyone to believe without a shadow of a doubt to him.

He played his way along through a number of meaningless women, Ron just as well frustrated but for very different reasons. Harry's training to be an Auror was finished, and now he would begin his work as an Auror very soon. It was funny easily he passed the final exam to be an Auror, yet he could not maintain a healthy relationship with any women. Even if he could, he knew he would not be able to love them in anyway shape or form.

Through all deep trails and wars, it was his worst curse. He could no longer trust anyone, for anyone could hurt him with just a few words, which was all it took. They could take what he earned, what he gave to them and shove it back broken and bloody. Harry could kill the most powerful Dark wizard ever known to all of existence, but he could not repair a broken, bloody, shattered heart even with all the magic and power in the world if it did not include Hermione Granger. He would never allow himself to admit that ever, in all of infinity.

**

* * *

**

His hair was golden yellow, and his eyes were a soft grey. His overall appearance was soothing and laid back. His name was Mike, but Hermione preferred Mikey. Her approval and attraction for Muggle men seemed to be growing on her, and she found she was using magic a little less over long amounts of time.

Mikey was muscular, charming and incredibly handsome in a complete parallel way from Harry. He was absently aware of the world, almost like seeing the world from behind a screen. Hermione and Mikey were different, as she would jump to action and he was hesitant. She almost thought she loved him.

The first snow had begun to come down on their heads. Mikey had dragged her into London, through much persuasion and a long train ride. Hermione was cautious, thinking of the absurd possibility of running into someone that she once knew. It was Muggle London, what was she thinking?

His hand was tangled with hers as his arm also was wrapped around her lower waist. Mikey's shaggy head was leaned onto of hers as the snow fell all around them. They walked slowly, absent mindedly as they had nowhere to be. Her eyes refreshed the look of London, though nothing had changed as she remembered. A few times her anxiety flashed a familiar face on a stranger's body, but in time she calmed down.

He whispered in her ear, pointing to buildings or shops. Eventually, Mikey pulled her into restaurant that almost seemed a bit too fancy for their current apparel. The host seated them almost immediately as they made their way through the bustling lunch crowd. She watched his handsome face from across the table as he told her of how he used to live in London as a teen with his family. Hermione's eyes could not focus on him; however, for there was a certain bright head a few tables over that deeply concerned her. It was the shade that stuck out, as she only knew a few to have that red hair. Her throat tightened when she finally got a look at the familiar stranger. The glowing red hair, the recognizable pretty face and the scorching fire in her eyes that reduced Hermione's confidence to ashes struck her from across the restaurant.

Hermione excused herself to the bathroom as she began to feel incredibly sick to her stomach. By the time she reached the empty restroom, she had hardly made it to the toilet to wretch out all that had been concerning her for the longest time.

"I almost believed you dropped off the face of the earth."

She straightened up and whipped around to face the youngest Weasley. Hermione never let her stone gaze falter in any way of friendliness to Ginny. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play stupid, Hermione," Ginny snapped. "I'm not a child, nor are you. Yet you still run from your problems, I see, as they get too _complicated_ for the 'brightest witch of your age' to figure out."

Hermione could feel her throat still tightened as Ginny's word spread from her mouth and spread all around her to suffocate her.

"Did you not want to _fail_? Was that it, so you went off somewhere to find a new man to pick apart until he wasn't even _alive_ anymore?" Ginny's pretty face was mixed with disgust as she stared at Hermione.

"I don't even know you," Hermione lied in a voice that was unfamiliar to Ginny.

The youngest Weasley shook her head in disappointment. "I'm almost surprised you stayed in Europe – or in London, for that fact."

"I'm just visiting," she retorted as she began to push by Ginny.

Ginny words cut through her heart. "Harry probably still loves you. It's shame that you both moved on so quickly."

Hermione stopped in the doorway. "Ron told you."

"Everything," she said lightly. "I'm sure he'd like to know if you got his letter as well."

"Does Harry know?"

"He doesn't know that Ron found you. He's gone through quite a few women."

Hermione took one last look over her shoulder at Ginny. "I'm glad."

She left the restaurant, the man she almost began to love and an old friend behind the glass double doors. Things could not catch up to her if she went around to them first.


	20. Recovered

I would have gotten this out this morning, however, yesterday I got some horrible news about someone I knew. But you reviewers put up with my bitching, & you did review. For the record, I was going to put this chapter up no matter how many reviews it got.

I've been re-reading this ever since I actually finished it. I don't like some parts, & I really didn't want this ending at all at first, but I'm happy with it now. Thank you, everyone, for reviewing. But I'd really like a shout out to especially **SwishAndFlick31**, because she's been reviewing since the very very _very_ start & she's a doll, even though I didn't update for about a month or two. Love you, honey!

But here it is. Chapter twenty, because if it ended on an odd number I'd really have to bang my head on another wall again. No joke.

I've been saying this from the start, but whatever, I'm a persistant bitch. Read & review, if you can put up with this final addition.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty_

Had anyone been peering from their window very late at night, they might have caught a glimpse at a blur of a shadow that happened to be Hermione Granger. She'd been walking far too long to remember how long ago she had even started. Her pace quickened whenever she believed to hear a sound; she had no time for distractions. Snow had begun falling hard within the past hour or so. The ground was covered with at least two inches of snow, but despite incredibly wet and soggy jeans, Hermione pushed on into the cold, pulling her jacket tighter and tighter around her small frame.

She came upon the familiar building when her heart was racing many months ago to bring up the courage to walk up there. Back then Hermione had the courage, the will to go up there. But now she simply stood in an empty street staring up at the lit up apartment where she could see two figures, clearly holding wine glasses. Had it been a clear night Hermione would be able to decipher who the figures were, but it wasn't and her heart knew it had to be Harry. She dug her hands deeper into the pockets as she let her head fall back to look at the grey sky.

Life continued to throw its surprises at her, wanting to know her reactions, testing her intelligence and her heart, had she any left. She'd been so strong all these months. She never let herself feel remorse about Harry, not for longer than a second. Her heart slowed its pace as she closed her eyes; breathing slowly in and out the coldness of winter, nothing was colder than what came next.

"Hermione?"

She jerked her body ramrod straight as the voice conquered the silence of the empty street. Her heart rose when it recognized the voice. Hermione turned to face him, keeping her stony manner intact. She didn't let her mouth form any words, for she knew that she couldn't trust herself in this situation.

"Is that you?" his anxious voice came from just a few feet away. The crunching of snow signaled he was coming closer, and without thinking Hermione took a step back. "It's me, Harry."

"I know it's you," Hermione snapped in a voice that would never belong to her.

Harry's ragged breath was the only thing hanging in the atmosphere for a minute before he spoke. Simply having her in his presence smashed his healed wounds. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"I was hoping that'd be true," she lied in a truthful tone.

His heart was cracking even more by the second with each hurtful thing she said. "How've you been?"

"None of your business," she replied in yet another foreign nasty tone.

"Well, I'd think it should since I'm your best friend –"

"You _were_ my best friend," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Considering I haven't seen or spoken to you or Ron in a number of months, it's hard to say we're even friends."

"Then why are you even here? Another _visit_?" Harry retorted loudly as he was horribly hurt once more.

He could not break her if he had all the power and might in the world to hurt her. Hermione had built up a bulwark around herself that nothing could crack or destroy. Her once expressive chocolate brown eyes held nothing except the darkened image of Harry in front of her and a few dim streetlights. "And how've you been getting along? Crying every night? Sleeping with countless girls to get rid of the thought of me?"

It hit him that she'd been in a bit of contact with someone. "You talked to Ron?"

"He sent me a letter a month or so ago," Hermione planted a wretched grin on her face. "I ran into Ginny tonight as well. She told me very funny things."

"Like what?" His voice was cracking as he couldn't stand her new cold behavior.

She let a small laugh escape her mouth. "Well, Ginny mentioned you might still be in _love_ with me."

There was silence between them, only the howling and whistling of the wind in the air. Finally, Harry spoke up. "I'm not going to say I never loved you. I'm not going to tell you that I don't love you anymore. I'll always love you, Hermione, and I can't help that."

He could see her falter, but her lips did not form new words to cut him with.

"I've missed you so much," he struggled to get out. "I don't care if you put up this fake cold personality, because I know it's not _you_. I'll admit I've slept with a lot of women, Hermione, and you're right. I wanted to get you out of my head because you hurt me so much. But now –" he paused as he ran a hand through his thick, ebony hair, "I'm used to being hurt, Hermione. I'm really used to losing people that I care about. I haven't got a family, you know that. The Weasley's are the closet thing I've got – and you. I thought I had you."

Her breath was caught in her throat as he paused once more. She had promised herself she wouldn't break, she wouldn't break, but here she was already defeated.

"Do you think, Harry, you're the only one to be let down by the ones you really loved?" Hermione retorted calmly though she could feel the tears seeping up into her eyes. "I never told you what Viktor did. I never actually told you."

"He hit you," Harry answered. "I know –"

"No!" she shrieked as the tears began to cloud her eyes losing everything she worked for. "You don't know, Harry. You assumed he only hit me, but – but it's more complicated."

He waited for her to continue as he listened to her ragged breathing and choking tears.

"Everything had been perfect, you know?' her voice was so high and pitiful she hated herself, but Hermione had to tell him. "And I don't know what I did to make him – to make him not love me anymore. He hit me, he – he violated me. I thought it was once, I thought he had a bad day because you know what? I really loved him; I didn't believe or thought I loved him. I _loved_ him. But he did it again. And then he did it again, and again. He was the biggest mistake of my life to tell him I loved him and to let him continue to hurt me."

"Hermione," Harry said softly, listening to her strangled sobs. "You should –"

"I should have left earlier; I should have told you; I should have done something!" Hermione screamed as she pulled the ends of her long hair. "I know what I should have done, and obviously I didn't!"

Harry suddenly grabbed her hand. "You did do something. You did the right thing, you always do."

"Then why am I here?" she said nastily through clenched teeth and rapid tears as she gave an attempt to pull her arm away.

"Because you love me," Harry said slowly. Hermione stared back as Harry still held her hand. "I've always loved you, Hermione. I've never been much of a man to admit it to you until now."

"Do you know how much I want to disappoint you right now and tell you that I don't love you back?" she spoke softly. "I let a man love me, Harry, and you know what he did to me. Here I am, almost a year later and I'm still not completely healed."

Harry gripped her hand in anticipation to hear what she would say next. The snow fell more quickly and heavier than it had just seconds ago.

"I won't hurt you –" he broke the silence when she refused to.

"You can't promise me that, Harry," Hermione cut in softly. Harry built himself up for what he thought was coming next. "But you're going to be the chance I'm going to take. If you hurt me, Harry, then so be it. I don't want to be afraid of loving anymore. I don't want to be afraid of a man to stop loving me – if they ever really do."

It was then when they both realized how close their faces were. Harry stared at her striking face surrounded by her long, curly russet hair. As he leaned forward, he felt her hand on his cheek. She pulled him in tight to a kiss he knew he would never forget. In what he felt was a short amount of time, Hermione pulled away from him, staring deeply to read all his inmost thoughts from his emerald eyes.

"I'm cold," she whispered in his ear as the snow covered the tops of their heads more heavily.

Harry pulled her ever closer into his lean frame. "I can help."

Had no one been peering from their windows, they would have missed the sight of a love struck young couple wound in each other arms and heated kiss. But someone was, his red head bobbing with his arm around Jewel, now his girlfriend once more strangely enough, and both raising their glasses of champagne to a toast that included more growing up, leaving a hell and being best friends till the end of time. Of course, Ronald Weasley could not forget the most important toast of all.

To falling in love and holding on tight.

_The End_

* * *

**A/N:** As for my new stories, I'm not really going to have it to be anything like this. Also because of TDH, I'm probably going to be mostly write Maurder Era stuff & it will definately be out soon enough.

No, sorry loves, there won't be an epilouge. I'd rather have you all imagine the perfect ending then crush people's dreams which I probably am with this ending.

So, on to new stories right? Right, talk to you all soon!


End file.
